by Dianne Drake
“That’s a whole lot of thinking into the future,” she said, reaching behind Carter to push the button. “But it sounds fantastic, provided you can recruit the right people to run it.”
She was excited for him, because looking out toward others’ needs, and not simply inward at his own, was unlike anything he’d done in the past year. But she had to be reserved about it, rather than plunge in and make plans with him, or try to help the way she always did. Right now, treading lightly with Carter was the way she had to go.
To what end Sloane wasn’t sure. She’d come looking for peace and quiet, and yet her hopes were beginning to take over—which wasn’t necessarily bad, but also wasn’t good, since Carter seemed to be the one with the clearer focus now.
“I hope it works for you.”
There were so many other things she wanted to say, like Can I help you? and What does that mean for us? But she didn’t, because she’d been rejected by him once before and she still wasn’t over it—and she certainly wasn’t ready for yet another rejection.
When the elevator door opened she stepped out and walked on ahead of him without another word,
What was there to say anyway?
Carter’s life was going in one direction and hers in another. In a few days she’d be back at her L.A. hospital, doing all the things she’d done before. And Carter—well, his future was wide open, and she doubted it would ever again include routine medicine. No surgical schedules, no surgical follow-ups.
What he had here—this was what he wanted, and it did suit him. It was nothing she would have seen coming. Probably nothing Carter would have seen coming either. But he was growing into a contentment she’d never seen in him before. And a different kind of focus. Something more laid-back and personal. In a way, she envied him.
“So we’ve got to go thirty miles to give this guy some water for his hangover?” she asked as they approached his motorcycle. “What happens if in the meantime you have a real patient who needs real skills?”
“I make the choice.” He got on the bike, then held out his hand to help Sloane climb on the back. “And the people here seem to trust me to do that.”
“Your skills as a doctor were never questioned, Carter. Up to and including that day you walked out, I never heard anybody question any medical decision you made.”
“Then you weren’t listening, Sloane. The criticisms were real—and loud. And they wouldn’t let go of me no matter what I did.”
“They were in your mind, Carter.”
“And your mind is a terrible thing to have turn against you.”
“But you’re turning it around now. Remember that. You’re turning it around.”
Sloane fastened her helmet and wrapped her arms around his waist, and as she did so she noticed him jerk slightly to the side.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“Nope. Just making an adjustment.”
And that was the last thing he said before they took off. Because their helmets were not in sync for communication, they rode in silence for thirty minutes, but when they got to the site where the questionable trail guide had collapsed no one was there.
“Did we lose our patient?” Sloane asked, once they were stopped.
“Our patient and his party.”
Carter radioed the lodge hosting the group and discovered that they’d gone on without their guide.
“Except they went in opposite directions. The group is headed to the finish of the trail and they left their guide here, sitting on a rock.”
“So maybe he’s gone on ahead, too?”
“According to the concierge, Kip—that’s his name—was in no shape to walk anywhere. In fact they specifically told him to find another guide, that he was not to lead anyone anywhere.”
Carter let out a frustrated sigh, then sat down on the rock.
He looked tired. But then yesterday had done her in and she hadn’t been involved in that rescue to the extent Carter had been, so maybe this was simply residual tiredness that would be fixed by a good nap.
“So, what’s our next option?” she asked. “Because if you want this doctor’s opinion, I think you should go back to your place and get some rest. You’re not looking good, Carter.”
To prove her point, Sloane took him by the wrist to check his pulse—but it seemed fine, which surprised her.
A sly grin crept over his face. “Care to examine any other parts of me? You know I’m not in the least shy about that—as long as it’s you doing the exam.”
That was definitely the old Carter speaking and she blushed. thinking about how many times she’d given in to his naughty persuasions.
“Yeah, right. Out here in the open, where anybody could see us.”
“Look around, Sloane. We’re the only ones here.”
Laughing, she sat down next to him, wondering why she’d worn such a tight sleeveless T-shirt. It left nothing to the imagination, especially without a bra, and she wasn’t wearing one. And what with the sweat it might be a wet T-shirt contest for all the good the stretchy fabric was doing.
Self-consciously, she crossed her hands over her chest and hunched down a little.
“No need to hide from me, Sloane,” Carter said. “I’ve seen it all—and God knows you know how much I’ve always liked that aspect of our relationship.”
“Except our relationship is over, Carter.”
“But the memories linger...” He reached over and traced the line of her collarbone with his index finger. “And they’re good ones.”
She thought about slapping his hand away, but too much of her wanted this. Wanted his touch and so much more. Because they were good at this. Maybe too good. So many of the other aspects of their years together seemed to fade away, but not those details.
“Were we ever right for each other?” she asked. “I know we had a lot of years, but you were gone for so many of them I’m wondering if we ever got past the physical attraction.”
Carter pulled his hand away. “Seriously? You think in all that time that’s all we had?”
“I’m at a place right now where I question everything. The way we are now—it’s hard to put us together the way we were back then. We did things together all the time, and that was good. But I wonder who were we that you didn’t feel inclined to tell me something so important as that you needed space and encouragement, not someone to jump in and take over and try to fix you. So, yes, I do question things now.”
Sloane noticed his hands shaking and wondered if he was on the verge of a PTSD incident. Shaking hands was always a giveaway—one that told her to tread very carefully. Was she pushing him into this?
“I don’t have an answer for you because I always thought we were good.”
“So did I—but were we really good enough? We were almost married by the time you left. My wedding dress is still hanging in the closet.”
Carter wiped the sweat off his face, then studied his shaking hands for a moment before he spoke.
“By that time we weren’t good. At least I wasn’t. And it killed me watching you trying to help me all the time, especially when I knew nothing was working. I never meant to hurt you, Sloane. But, honestly, at the point when I left the only person I could think about was me. I hated seeing you cry, which was happening more and more, and I didn’t want to be responsible for that. I didn’t want to be responsible for me, either.”
He wiped his brow again, then crammed his shaking hands into his pockets.
“Is something going on I should know about?” she asked, her level of concern rising at seeing so many physical symptoms she remembered. Shaking hands. Sweating. Shortness of breath. A relentless restlessness that kept elevating. And his restlessness was definitely elevating. In fact he was so antsy he hopped off the rock and started to pace.
“No, I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t. And h
ere they were, right back where they’d used to be. He was leaving her out. Something was obviously wrong, and she wasn’t being included in it.
“Well, I say we call the rangers and let them worry about our errant tour guide and his hikers, then we can head back to the hotel.”
He stopped for a moment to look at her, but it was a strange look. One that was almost looking right through her.
“Sloane, I—” He stopped. Gasped for breath. Then bit down hard on his lower lip. “I need help...” he gasped.
Then he collapsed into her arms.
Her first reaction was to lower him to the ground. Then feel for a pulse in his neck—it was there, but thready.
“Carter, can you hear me?” She had no idea what this was. Certainly not PTSD. “Carter...?”
Grabbing his medical bag, she pulled out his stethoscope and listened to his chest. It was clear. When she checked his blood pressure it was strong enough. But his ankles were slightly swollen. As were his hands. And his breathing was...labored.
She thought back to his stitch of pain earlier, when she’d climbed on to the motorcycle. And his tiredness. And all the other little things: his shaking hands; his sudden irritability. She thought hard for a moment, running down the list of things she’d observed, things she’d been worried about then, suddenly, it hit her, as did a mammoth bout of nausea.
“Carter!” she said, picking up her phone and hoping she had enough bars out here to ring Cruz.
Because Carter was dying.
She believed his remaining kidney had failed or was in the process of it and, while she wasn’t a specialist, she knew that if she was correct, he needed dialysis as fast as possible or the toxins that weren’t being filtered due to kidney failure would kill him.
“Hang in there with me, Carter. I think you’ve got a kidney problem going on.” Naturally, she didn’t expect him to respond. But she hoped he would.
“Hear you’ve got a semi-sober trail guide out there,” Cruz said after he answered his phone.
“I have a patient in renal failure. I need to get him to the hospital, so can you track me and come get us?”
“I’ll be right out to you,” he assured her. Then, “Since you went out with Carter—is it him?”
“It is,” she said, fighting back the panic and the fear rising in her. “And it’s bad. He’s unconscious.”
“Ten minutes tops.”
Which would turn into the ten longest minutes of Sloane’s life.
“Look Carter,” she said, sitting in the middle of the dry, dusty dirt road with Carter’s head in her lap. “I understand why you weren’t taking your health seriously. You were fighting such a huge battle and your life was getting better. But to ignore this? Sure, maybe you didn’t want another obstacle in your way, but this is your life we’re dealing with.”
She lifted his limp hand to her lips and kissed it.
“How could you do this to yourself, to me. To us?”
Any other time the tears would have been flowing, but she was in full doctor mode and when she was a doctor, she didn’t cry. Never. But she was so close because she was scared. This was the man she’d loved more than life for six years and he was dying in her arms.
“It’s not going to happen. I won’t allow it.” she said, trying to move herself into a position where her body shaded his.
Allow it? Right. As if she had any control over his condition.
“We’ve come too far, for too long, to end it here, this way, Carter. Whether you want to hear this or not, I’ve loved you so much and for so long, and while I got frustrated with you so many times this past year. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love you, because I did. And I still do. Nothing about that has changed. And I’m pretty sure you love me.”
Sloane wiped his sweaty brow with the bottom of her shirt.
“I don’t know if we can fix things. But I want to try again. I deserve it. We deserve it.”
She glanced up to see if Cruz was on his way, but the sky was empty.
“And if that means I move to Forgeburn and turn myself into a GP, that’s what I’ll do. It’s called being in love, and somewhere along the way I think you forgot how to do that. But I want it back, Carter. Do you hear me? I want all of it back.”
Sloane assessed his vitals again and found there was essentially no change.
“I may not have been forceful enough when we were together before, or maybe I was too forceful—I don’t know. But it was because I loved you so much.”
Even though the tears were threatening harder now, she still wasn’t going to cry. Carter needed her to be a doctor, needed her to save his life. And the way she was going to do that—he might not approve but, at least, he’d be alive to argue with her about it.
“So here’s the plan. Carter. Cruz is going to fly you to the hospital to get you fixed. After that, you and I are going to quit all this avoiding the real situation, and deal with it. Like, how you still love me. She brushed back the damp hair from her face.
“Because I love you, and that’s the only way I know how to take care of you. For me, Carter, it’s all or nothing. And I want it all.”
The distant sound of a motorcycle startled her out of her moment, and she looked up to see Matt coming to a stop. He grabbed an armload of supplies from his storage and came running to her.
“Cruz called me. He’s delayed a little longer than he should be, and since I was already in the vicinity...”
“IV,” Sloane said, snapping back into doctor mode.
She had a patient to take care of here. The most important patient of her life.
* * *
Carter opened his eyes, but nothing came into focus except a white ceiling. He stared up at it for a moment. Then he blinked, wondering if it would go away. But it didn’t, which meant it was real. He fixed on the ceiling for a full minute before he finally turned his head and saw the IV line in his arm—a sight with which he was well-acquainted—and the stand-by ventilator next to the bed. There were other monitors too—for blood pressure, heart-rate.
As he twisted a bit, to see what else he was hooked up to, a sharp pain stabbed him in the side. Slowly he twisted left and saw the patient in the bed next to him. He couldn’t bring him into focus, though.
“Where are we?” he asked, wondering if his roomie was even awake.
His roomie sat up. That much he could see.
“Carter?”
“Sloane?” Something was off here, and he couldn’t even begin to make sense of it. “What’s going on?”
“You collapsed. It seems your kidney shut down and you’ve been suffering from uremia for a while. Uremia, by the way, has symptoms you should have noticed. You know, your back cramps, lack of appetite, excessive tiredness.”
“Are you here to nag at me for not diagnosing myself?” Carter asked, so glad to hear her voice that if he could have hopped across to her bed he would have.
“It’s a tough job, but...”
“Somebody’s got to do it? I know. So what did they do? Dialyze me.”
“Too late for that. Your kidney was—let’s just say done.”
They’d removed his kidney? No way in hell. “Seriously, what did they do to me?”
“They couldn’t save it, Carter. Your binges for the past year...they took a toll. I’m sorry it happened this way, but there was nothing they could do.”
He was so tired. Too much pain. And he simply couldn’t take it in. No kidney meant dialysis for the rest of his life. That would take him out of The Recovery Project. Force him to move somewhere close to a dialysis center. End his medical career. End everything he’d fought so hard to get back.
“So, I’ll add that to my list, right? No spleen, no kidneys, and I’ll never know when my PTSD will trigger. I mean, what’s the point? What’s the damn point to any of this?”
“Yo
u mean what’s the point of being so loved by a small community that they’re raising funds to give you a proper home there? People love you, Carter. They depend on you. You are such a good person—such a good doctor.
“Yeah, well, tell them to skip the home and buy me a dialysis machine. Because that’s the way the rest of my life is going to be written.”
“Only if you want it to be,” she said.
“And what’s my alternative?”
“Keep the kidney they transplanted into you healthy. You know...live the better life, do the better thing.”
“I—I had a transplant?” He looked over at her, his vision slowly returning. But not enough to really see her yet. “How? I wasn’t even on the list.”
“A perfect match donor came forward.”
“And just gave me a kidney?” Now he was totally confused. People didn’t just give away kidneys. Sure, the body only needed one healthy kidney, but most people opted to hang on to the other one just to be on the safe side.
“Something like that.”
“Tell me how it happened. Especially since I didn’t consent to it.”
“You didn’t have to. Remember all those years ago when you joined the Army, and you gave me your power of attorney to make decisions if you couldn’t make them yourself? I still have your power of attorney, Carter. You never had it revoked after we split up, and I made the medical decision. There was a kidney available, and because of your condition you went to the top of the list. So—”
“So someone’s tragedy saved my life?”
The doctors had talked to him about the possibility of a transplant at some time in the future, if the one kidney he had went bad, and being a surgeon himself there was nothing he didn’t know about the whole process from start to end. But he’d never really thought in terms of having a transplant, even though he’d known his existing kidney was fragile. Now that it was done, he wasn’t sure what to think.
“Do we know anything about the donor?” he asked, the way any doctor would ask. Hiding behind his medical credentials right now seemed the safest place to be. It was the only place he truly understood.
